


There will always be a bit of my heart devoted to you

by serenityandtea



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:10:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3332999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenityandtea/pseuds/serenityandtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU in which Harry, Niall and Zayn are destined to be together, and having two soulmates might not be as difficult as Niall thought it would be.</p><p> <i>His name is scribbled on there in quite a messy scrawl compared to Harry’s neat writing -he should have listened to his mum when she told him to practise his writing a bit more- and for the second time that day, Niall’s breath catches.</i></p><p>  <i>“Can I?” he asks, hovering his fingers right above Harry’s name. Zayn nods once before Niall presses his thumb down. It’s smooth, no jarred edges, and he traces the letters, saving the image in his brain.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	There will always be a bit of my heart devoted to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shuttermutt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuttermutt/gifts).



> for shuttermutt - you asked for soulmate fic, so here it is! Not quite as angsty as I would have liked (it's like, 85 per cent fluff) but I hope you still enjoy it!
> 
> Thanks to Zee for the beta and for listening to me whine endlessly about this fic.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don't own or know anyone in this story. If you are or know someone in this story, I highly recommend you hit backspace right now.

He’s not nervous.

Or at least, he tries not to be. He _shouldn’t_ be.

His hands are shaking as he raps his knuckles against the door. Once, twice. There’s a shuffling sound coming from behind the red wood and Niall hoists his backpack a bit higher on his shoulder while he takes a few deep breaths. There’s no reason for his anxiety; this is Harry they’re talking about after all. The boy who’d help a old lady cross the street, and who calls his mum every other day. He’d most definitely never shut a door in anyone’s face. Not even when Niall hasn’t talked to him for over a year and he has all the reason to _slam_ the door. Maybe yell a bit as well.

It will be all right.

The lock on the door clicks and Niall takes one more deep breath before he’s faced with bright green eyes, dark brown curls and that familiar feeling of being home. He doesn’t even get the chance to say anything or to explain himself before he’s wrapped up in two strong arms. His nose presses against Harry’s collarbone and Niall hates the fact that he missed Harry grow even taller.

“Haz, you gotta let go of me before you squeeze me to death,” Niall mumbles against a t-shirt that smells like sweat and chocolate.

There’s not a trace of anger on Harry’s face when he grips Niall by his shoulders and gives him a proper look-over. If the tables were turned, Niall would be fuming right now, but like he said; it’s Harry. He realises that it’s been more than a year and he doesn’t really have an excuse for what he did. All he’s hoping for is a little bit of forgiveness (and maybe some more of those hugs, because he’s missed them).

“You got yours, right? Please tell me you did,” Harry pleads, and Niall doesn’t need Harry to elaborate before he lowers his jeans an inch, pulls up his t-shirt and shows Harry the two names that will be forever written on the skin of his hips.

“Good,” Harry breathes and he turns around, moving the hair from his neck. Niall hadn’t expected it to be such a shock to see his own name on Harry’s body, but it is. It’s weird to see his own name next to a slightly messier one that isn’t his, but the spike of jealousy that he’d been prepared for doesn’t come.

“Did you find him?” Niall asks carefully, and he’s aware that they’re still standing in the hallway, but he needs to know before he steps inside.

“I did,” Harry replies, his smile lighting up the whole building. “Last week, actually. I went to this art show with Nick for my birthday and I noticed the signature and the handwriting in my neck matched. Nick persuaded me into sending an incredibly stupid letter but he still came to meet me. You’ll like him. I mean- of course you’ll like him, he’s your soulmate but like, he’s really nice. Artsy. Bit quiet.”

Those aren’t traits that Niall would probably use to describe the soulmate he’d always imagined he’d have, but maybe it’s a good thing. Between him and Harry, they’ll probably need someone quiet to shut them up when they get too loud. Harry calls it ‘passionate’, but in the end it’s just that: loud.

“He’s actually here,” Harry adds, and for some reason, dread creeps up Niall. What if the other two don’t need him here? He did kind of leave Harry as soon as the same name appeared on the both of them. They must have-

“Stop.” Harry’s voice is strong, ripping him out of his thoughts. A hand grips Niall’s jaw, forcing him to look at him. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. I know you. We’re just friends right now. I knew you’d come back sooner or later and I would never, _never_ , do this without you. We’re doing this with the three of us, or not at all. Everything will work out fine. Promise.”

Niall takes a deep breath and forces himself to look into Harry’s eyes. He looks completely sincere, a bit of fierceness shining through, and this is the Harry Niall knows. Sweet, yet determined.

“You wanna come in?” Harry asks, and the door’s already falling shut behind them before Niall can reply. “Wait here.”

Niall shrugs of his backpack and lets it fall against the wall. There are different pairs of shoes lined up against the other wall and Niall adds his to the line-up. He’s about to try and guess which ones are Harry’s and which ones obviously aren’t when throat clears behind him. Niall spins around, and stares right at his soulmate. His soulmates. Plural.

“Niall, Zayn. Zayn, Niall.”

Even Harry looks nervous with his hands twitching in front of him, but Niall can’t take his eyes off the other boy. He’s bloody gorgeous.

“Hi,” Zayn mumbles and he waves a little. Niall dumbly waves back. Even in a pair of paint-stained sweatpants and a white t-shirt that has definitely seen better days, Zayn still looks like he’s ready for his cover shoot for Vogue or something.

“Right,” Harry says, breaking their silence. “Let’s move this to the living room.”

Niall trails after them, gently sitting down next to Zayn on the sofa when Harry sits on the other side. Niall doesn’t know what to say, but everything feels so surreal. Before last week, he’d thought he’d be better off without Harry; let the other boy be happy with Zayn while he found someone else to spend the rest of his life with. Fate, however, had another idea. Last week Harry’s name had appeared opposite of Zayn’s, and for some reason, he’d felt more relief than panic.

There’s no doubt in Niall’s mind that he is Harry’s soulmate: he’s never been able to spend more than two days without the other boy. The past year had been hard, but now that he’s actually sitting on a couch with his _two_ soulmates, he doesn’t want it any other way.

Niall turns to Zayn, taking in the way that his eyes are locked on the carpet, his knees pressed tight together like he wants to make sure he’s not touching either one of them. It shouldn’t be this awkward, and he knows it’s mostly due to him.

“Right,” Niall declares into the silence. “I’ve got a few things to say.”

Harry opens his mouth to protest, but Niall talks right over him. “No, lemme talk. I wanna apologise because what I did was utter shit, and I realise that now. I should’ve never left, and I’m so sorry, Haz. I was just so confused, ‘cause I suddenly had a name on my skin that I couldn’t read properly, and then when I finally could, it turned out it to be a bloke. To make things even worse, it turned out to be exactly the same as the one in your neck, and I kinda freaked out. You can’t believe how sorry I am for that. Last week was absolutely mad. Like, it was your birthday and your name appeared on my skin as well and mate, I’ve never been so relieved. It made sense, y’know? You were pretty easy to find once I asked Lou and I figured that we could go look for Zayn together if you hadn’t found him already. I already got a map and everything, but yeah. We won’t need that one ‘cause he’s already here. Again, I’m sorry and I hope you forgive me, ‘cause I know I’ve been a shit mate but I also kinda like you a lot? If that helps me even a bit.”

He feels ten pounds lighter when he finally dares to look up. Harry’s quiet but staring at him from the other end of the sofa and Zayn’s got a secret smile, but it doesn’t say much. Doesn’t really give him the answers or reactions that he’s looking for.

“Of course I forgive you,” Harry finally whispers and he grabs Niall’s hand. “I think I understand why you left? Like, ‘m not happy that you did, but I think I get it. We’re fine now, right?”

“Yes. Definitely.” Niall’s always known that Harry’s been the forgive-and-forget kind of person, but it’s nice to have some reassurance. “We’ve got this.”

Zayn looks a bit uncomfortable to sitting between them, and Niall lets Harry go with a little flourish. Plenty of time for sickening handholding later.

“Zayn?” Niall speaks up, and Zayn’s head snaps up from where it was studying their clasping hands. “Is it okay- You mind showing me your marks? If you wanna, that is.”

“Yeah, no, sure.” Zayn rolls his sleeves up a bit and he holds out both his wrist for Niall to see.

His name is scribbled on there in quite a messy scrawl compared to Harry’s neat writing -he should have listened to his mum when she told him to practise writing a bit more- and for the second time that day, Niall’s breath catches.

“Can I?” he asks, hovering his fingers right above Harry’s name. Zayn nods once before Niall presses his thumb down. It’s smooth, no jarred edges, and he traces the letters, saving the image in his brain.

“It’s incredible,” he breathes out and he can see Harry nod in agreement. “Tell me a bit about yourself?”

In the next five minutes, he learns that Zayn isn’t in uni anymore, but that he’s a fulltime artist working on his next art project. He lives with his best mate Liam -not for long, if Harry’s intense gaze is anything to go by- and has a phobia of open water. There’s bits as well about his family and his friends and Niall realises that he likes listening to Zayn. His voice is soft and soothing and it might just be him, but it is incredibly relaxing. His fingers keep trailing his and Harry’s names, but Zayn doesn’t seem to mind.

“That’s it, I guess,” Zayn finishes and Niall smiles at him, drawing his fingers back.

“Thanks. Felt a bit strange, not knowing you at all.”

“Yeah, no, I understand,” Zayn reassures him and he seems to hesitate a bit. “Do you- could I see mine?”

Niall lifts up his shirt a bit and leans back into the sofa, exposing the two names inked on his hip. He hears Zayn’s sharp intake of breath and it’s probably stupid to feel proud of somebody else’s name but he _is_.

“Nice, innit?”

Instead of the four letters like Harry has, Niall’s got a bunch of swirls and dots as Zayn’s name. The زین is tattooed right across his hipbone and if he’s honest, it looks fucking amazing. Niall couldn’t care less about the language because it somehow fits perfectly.

Harry is staring at where Zayn’s finger is now touching his own name on Niall’s skin and Niall has to take a deep breath to remind himself that this is actually real.

Maybe he should have thought about the effect of one of his soulmates touching him, because now Zayn’s fingers are trailing across his bare skin and he’s having a bit of trouble keeping his breathing casual. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the sofa, his hands gripping the edge his seat. Niall tries to focus on the soft noise of the telly in the background rather than on Zayn’s fingers getting dangerously close to the edge of his jeans.

“Do you speak Urdu?” Zayn sounds curious and Niall opens his eyes.

“A bit, but only words, not real sentences. I did some research, but that was quite hard. So no. Not really.”

“I can teach you,” Zayn blurts out.

Niall laughs softly. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Tell us a bit about you?”

Niall thinks there isn’t a thing that Harry doesn’t know about him, but he still indulges Zayn. He tells him all about his childhood, about how he spent the last few months travelling all around the country, playing music in pubs and working the odd bartender job.

“But now I’m back,” he smiles, tugging his shirt down again. “For good, hopefully.”

The statement is met with silence, and not the kind of silence that Niall is particularly fond of. There’s a bit of underlying tension and he knows that they’re all thinking the same thing: is there even a possibility of this working with three people involved?

It’s gonna be bloody weird, that’s for sure. There’s two other people to think about; two other people to take care of. He isn’t even thinking about the sex yet. Although, where do all those limbs even go? Not that he’s an actual expert on gay sex - so he might have looked some things up after he’d got a bloke’s name on his hip, but he’s not suddenly an expert- but there must be some kind of technique, right?

“Do you have anywhere to stay?”

Niall shakes his head at Harry’s question. “No, but I figured Tommo must be around... So I’ll probably crash at his.”

“You could stay here,” is what Zayn says next and Niall wonders when Zayn started sleeping over at Harry’s, but he wisely stays quiet.

*

Two hours later, Niall finds himself squeezed into a way too small bed, trying not to touch the unfamiliar body lying next to him while Harry is pressed against the wall with his head tucked into said body’s neck.

“’S gonna be great,” Harry mumbles sleepily and Niall can’t help but agree with him.

*

He ends up staying at Harry’s place, partly because he doesn’t want to leave yet, but also because Louis isn’t picking up his damn phone. Zayn still goes home in the morning, softly claiming that he can’t leave Liam alone for too long or the whole flat will burn down. Niall knows he isn’t telling them the whole truth, but that’s alright. As long as he comes back to them.

*

It’s been a week and Niall can’t get fully used to it.

Falling into a pattern with Harry goes seamlessly, as it should for best friends who’ve known each other for more than ten years. Niall gets up with Harry in the mornings, fixes him some breakfast while Harry collects all his stuff and he disappears to bed again after he’s put all the dirty dishes in the sink after Harry’s left for his lectures. There might be some touches and kisses on cheeks involved, but that’s more than alright with him.

Zayn, however, is a completely different story. Niall doesn’t know if it’s because of something he did -or didn’t do-, but Zayn barely talks to him. He gets a ‘good morning’ in some variation every day, but it doesn’t go past that. He doesn’t talk a lot, only asks Niall to pass him the salt or something simple like that and it’s driving the Irish lad insane. He wants to get to know his soulmate -the person he’s supposed to spend the rest of his life with- and Zayn shutting him out actually hurts more than he likes to admit.

Which is why he’s currently knocking on Harry’s spare bedroom door that Zayn turned into his art room. Since apparently, they all live here now anyways.

“Come in,” is the muffled reply and Niall anxiously opens the door. He’s immediately hit with the smell of paint, toxics and something that smells an awful lot like smoke.

“You smoke?”

Zayn turns around, flushed. “Please don’t tell Harry?”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

Niall’s has this whole speech prepared, but right now the only thing that he can come up with is how good Zayn looks in a loose black t-shirt and- oh. Niall’s joggers. Well, that’s an image he’ll cherish for a while.

“So...” Zayn inquires and Niall’s eyes snap up to his face.

“So, yes. I was wondering if we could talk?”

Zayn drops his brush on a small side table. “Yeah, sure.”

Afraid that all the fumes will get to his head if he stays in here too long, Niall leads them to the bedroom. Zayn follows quietly and there’s a metre between the two of them once he’s sat against the headboard.

“The thing is...” Niall starts, taking a deep breath. “I feel like you’ve been kinda ignoring me. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’d like to know so I can fix it because I hate not talking to you even if it’s just been a week. You’re my soulmate as well and yeah. I’d like for this to work.”

Zayn doesn’t answer immediately. Niall starts counting the freckles on his hand as a distraction, because he’s got a lot to add. But he has also already figured out that sometimes, Zayn needs a bit more time to think things over.

“I figured- I figured that you mustn’t really be fond of me after I took Harry from you. I thought that if I took some distance, the two of you would inevitably find out how perfect you’re for each other and then you two could be happy together and I could just... Dunno, really.” Zayn looks sheepishly at him. “Now that I actually say it out loud it sounds ridiculous, but yeah.”

Niall snorts. “Completely mad. Why would we want to do this without you?”

“Because you’ve been best friends for _forever_ , and Harry won’t shut up about you when it’s the two of us. So, you know. You’re perfect for each other.”

Zayn looks so earnest, his eyes widened and his hands gripping a pillow tight. Niall swallows a few times and collects his thoughts before he turns to the other boy.

“Okay. Listen to me, yeah? We _need_ you. You’re our soulmate. There must be a reason there’s three of us in this, yeah? Maybe it’s that Harry and I should never be left alone because we’re basically kids and we need someone to talk some sense into us. Or maybe it’s because you need two people to remind you to eat once you get in your zone or whatever, but we all need _each other_. That means the three of us. I don’t know where you got the ridiculous notion that I think you took Harry from me, because you didn’t. I walked away last year, and I’m so happy that he found you and that I got my shit together. So what if you spent a week alone with him? I don’t blame either one of you, and maybe that was a good start, yeah? Ease the three of us into it, instead of taking a big leap...”

He hadn’t been planning on a big speech, but there it is anyway.

“Let’s just start over again, yeah?” Niall suggests and Zayn smiles at him. “Whenever something’s up, you tell Harry or me and we’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees, but he’s still gripping the pillow tight and Niall needs him to calm the fuck down.

“Alright. Now, you up for some pizza before Hazza comes home?”

*

Mornings are always sort of precious to him. He loves watching Harry stumble around the flat, and the fact that he still knows how Niall takes his coffee. He might also kind of love the way Zayn looks when he starts to wake up, his face all soft and young.

“Morning,” Niall murmurs when Zayn’s eyes blink open.

“Time s’it?” Zayn’s voice is laced with sleep, and something stirs inside Niall.

“Eight-ish. We could sleep a bit more.”

Zayn doesn’t reply, but just curls himself all around the other boy and Niall smiles softly to himself. They’re doing better. They’ve talked it out, and now Zayn doesn’t even hesitate to touch him (or Harry) and it’s fucking great.

They also _fit_ together; properly fit together. Zayn’s head tucks perfectly in between his shoulder and neck and their fingers lace together like they always were supposed to be tangled together. Normally, when Harry’s there as well, it fits even better because he can spoon them both, holding them as close as he can.

All in all, Niall figures that having two soulmates is not that bad.

*

Niall’s got his first football match in March and he doesn’t really expect either one of his boys to show up, but they do. Niall plays his best match of the season.

Harry’s wrapped up in too many layers, staring absentmindedly at the field, and Zayn’s brought his sketchbook with him, working on his next big project. Niall doesn’t even mind. They’re here, and that’s all that matters.

It’s not their team’s best match, not even by far, but they still win and Niall hasn’t been on the team that long, but it feels amazing. Winning seven to two is kinda cool, no matter the circumstances.

Zayn doesn’t even pretend to know what the final score is, but still gives him a quick peck on his lips and a bacon sarnie, and Harry doesn’t stop talking about that ‘one goal that you did, it just flew right over his head’ while he rubs some dirt from Niall’s cheek.

*

They’ve been dating for two months when Harry brings up the subject of sex while they’re watching Jamie Oliver throw something together on TV.

“Should we get a bigger bed?”

Niall’s not sure when Harry’s stuff became _their_ stuff, but he hasn’t left the flat in ages and neither has Zayn.

“Do we need one?” Zayn asks reasonably, his legs intertwined with Niall’s on the sofa and Harry’s hand in his lap.

“What’s wrong with this one?” Niall likes this bed. It’s small but comfy and it gives him a valid reason to press his chest against Zayn’s back every night.

“Well, I figured once we’d start fooling around we might want a bigger one so none of us falls off in the middle of giving head.”

Oh.

“Is that something we’ll be doing then?”

They haven’t done much outside of snogging sessions on the sofa -not that Niall hasn’t thought about it-, but so far just kissing Zayn has been the best damn thing Niall’s done so far. Until Harry pressed behind him and it got even better.

“Yes? I hope so?”

Harry’s looking at them all earnestly from his spot on the carpet. Zayn isn’t really looking at either of them, just staring at the wall behind the telly. Niall nudges his thigh with his toe, and he can hear the other boy let out an audible breath.

“I agree with Harry. We should get a bigger bed.”

Well, that’s it then.

*

Their new bed barely fits into their room, but they make it work, even if it means that they all have to climb over each other to get to their favourite spot on the mattress.

“’S good,” Harry mumbles, squirming around and almost poking Zayn in the eye with his thumb.

“I’m gonna miss the old one, though,” Niall replies. Zayn’s back is pressed against his chest, and he thinks it’s Harry’s cold feet that are pressed against his calves, but he isn’t too sure. Even when they’ve got twice as much space, they’re still all pressed together and it’s hard to say which limb belongs to who. “Dunno how I’m gonna sleep in this one without a cold wall pressing against my back.”

“I could make you so tired you’ll have no trouble falling asleep.”

Zayn snorts loudly. “Is that the best you can do?.”

“Is it working?” Niall can see Harry peering at him from behind Zayn’s shoulder and he winks at the other boy.

“Maybe.”

Next, Harry’s lip touch his and it doesn’t stop with one, two, three kisses. Niall quickly figures out how to focus on two people at the same time, with his lips pressed against Zayn’s and his hand stroking down Harry’s naked side. There’s no jealousy, no why-aren’t-you-touching-me-like-that, and when he falls asleep an hour later, it’s with his soulmarks tingling on his hips.

*

“Why can’t he just come home?”

They’re in a tiny café just around the corner of Harry’s place and the curly lad is pouting into his latte.

“Because it’s his mum’s birthday and he wants to spend some time with his family.”

“I still don’t know why we couldn’t have come.”

Niall knows why, Harry knows why, and he’s pretty sure the other boy is just being difficult for the sake of being difficult.

“You know why, Haz,” Niall sighs. He can see Harry scratching the back of his neck and Niall hooks his ankle around the other boy’s, offering that bit of comfort that is missing. It probably won’t help, but at least he tried.

“I don’t care if his dad is a homophobic arse, we’re his soulmates.”

Niall doesn’t correct him by saying that they’re not even sure if Yaser is homophobic or if Zayn’s just really cautious because of his religion. His soulmark has been itching for days now -just the left side, which is pretty annoying- so Niall gets what Harry’s getting at.

“Just give him time, Haz. Not all parents are as accepting as your mum.”

Anne had been lovely, inviting them all over to spend a weekend in Holmes Chapel to meet Zayn, but they still haven’t taken her up on the offer. Even after three months, they still yearn for time with just the three of them. Weekends are the only time when Harry doesn’t have any classes, when they can easily get Zayn away from his sketchbook with the promise of an action movie. Niall can get shifts off from work as long as he makes up for it during the week, so Saturday and Sunday is just for them.

“I know. I’m sorry. ‘M not blaming him.”

Harry looks miserable though and Niall grabs him by the hand and tugs him up.

“Let’s go home, yeah? He’ll be back in two days, and we’ve got a recipe to perfect for when he comes back.”

*

The smile on Zayn’s face when he tells them that his father didn’t outright disown him is simply radiating. As a celebration (or consolation, if things had gone different) they bring out a perfected lamb Korma (Niall left the burned naan in the kitchen) and the happy tears in Zayn’s eyes are more than worth the effort.

Niall realises that he needs to give his own dad a call as well.

*

The laptop is perched on his lap, the bedroom door closed to the two boys anxiously waiting on the sofa. He needs to do this alone.

“Hi!” Niall exclaims excited when his dad’s face pops on screen. “Look at you! Not a day older since I last saw you!”

Bobby grins right back at him, effectively calming some of his son’s nerves. “Wish I could say the same for you, but I can’t even remember the last time I saw you in the flesh.”

“Yes, well,” Niall says sheepishly. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do?”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Niall wants to ask about his brother, about his dad’s new workplace or the new lady that moved into town, but there’s only one reason he called today.

“Look,” Niall starts. “I kinda called with a reason...”

“I figured,” Bobby states simply, but not unkindly. Niall takes a deep breath, and presses his thumbs against the marks on his hips to calm him down.

“Remember how I got my soulmark last year?”

“The reason why you packed up and left? Yes, I think I remember that.”

“Yeah, well. I’m sorry.” _Deep breath, Horan._ “It was Harry. My soulmate was Harry.”

Bobby is silent on the other screen, and if there ever was a time that Niall wanted to be home, it was this moment. The webcam is too low-quality to give him an accurate display of all his dad’s facial expressions. There’s absolutely no knowing what’s going on in the other man’s head.

“Oh- Well, I didn’t really expect a bloke, but you he makes you happy?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s Harry.”

“That’s good, I guess...” Bobby doesn’t look all that disappointed and Niall breathes a bit more easily. On to the next part then.

“There’s something else.”

“Of course there is.”

“It’s not just Harry. I’ve got a second soulmate. His name is Zayn.”

Bobby’s laugh is loud from the other screen. “We’ve never done anything in halves, have we?”

“I guess not...” Niall grins back.

“So, tell me about them then. Show me your mark. Aren’t you gonna introduce us?”

For the next thirty minutes, Niall tells his dad everything about his two boys. About how Harry can’t seem to stop hogging the blankets and how Zayn never screws the lid on the jam which drives Niall nuts. About how he’s so amazed by Zayn’s talent and Harry’s ability to love everyone to the fullest.

Bobby interrupts in all the right places, asking questions about Zayn’s background and Harry’s family and Niall doesn’t even remember why he dreaded this so much. His dad is amazing.

*

It’s the first week of June when Zayn clears his throat while they’re all sitting at the small coffee table, takeaway boxes all over the place.

“Uhm. So, Ramadan is coming up...”

Niall nods and pushes a piece of beef around on his plate. Harry stays quiet as well, simply grabbing a bite of noodles from Zayn’s plate when he notices he’s run out.

“Would it be alright?” Zayn isn’t looking at them, instead choosing to focus on his plate and Niall thinks he should get a medal for being so good at keeping a straight face when all he wants to do is shake Zayn until he realises how much he’s worth.

“Would what be alright?” Harry replies easily, but Niall can see the slight tilt of his eyebrows.

“Me doing that.”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Honestly, Niall has the date saved in his phone -June 18-, so he’s more than alright with it.

Zayn shrugs in response. “Dunno, thought I’d ask. ‘S okay then?”

“Sure. Might have to explain the exact rules or what you call them to me, but I think I can do it. Niall’s gonna starve on the first day though.”

Niall chucks a pillow at Harry’s head, unfortunately missing by an inch. “Am not.”

“Don’t even try to lie to yourself, Horan.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Zayn interrupts, confusion written all over his face.

“The fact that we’re doing the Ramadan.” Harry says it so matter-of-factly that Niall wants to high-five him. Or snog his face off.

“No, no,” Zayn says quickly. “I’m not telling you all to do it. Just asking if it’s okay. ‘Cause like, a month is a long time and it might be easier if I just went home?”

“You’re not leaving us,” Harry states and Niall hums. “I know you’re not telling us to, but we want to. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I've got your name permanently written on my neck and I’m going to support you with whatever. So if that means a month of not eating between sunrise and sunset, I can totally do that. Niall probably can’t, but honestly, it’s just food.”

“And self control. So no sex,” Zayn adds, and Niall grins when he sees Harry’s enthusiasm fade a little.

“No sex, alright.”

“No food, no drinking, no sex, no smoking and no swearing.” Zayn raises his eyebrow, a challenging look on his face.

“I’m out,” Niall says. Not that he ever was _in_ , but he’s not giving up on his weekly pub crawl with Louis. Also, he works in a pub as well; there’s bound to be swearing.

“I can do it. It’s only a few hours, ‘s not that hard, right?”

“I think like, the sun goes up around five, and sunset is around ten. So that’s about sixteen hours...” Zayn calculates.

“Oh.”

Niall can’t wait to see how this will turn out.

*

Three days in, and Niall knows why Zayn offered to go home for Ramadan. As it turns out, sixteen hours without a cigarette makes him cranky.

Niall tries to distract him by offering to watch endless amount of films, but after the third romantic comedy, they’re both a bit fed up by the fact that they can’t really touch each other.

So far, Ramadan’s been going _great_.

*

The alarm clock goes off at four a.m. and Niall groans once before he untangles himself from the arm around his waist (Harry) and leg tucked between his (Zayn). Harry sniffles in his sleep, his eyes blinking open.

“Time s’it?”

“Four. Go sleep some more, I’ll wake you up when breakfast’s ready.” Niall tugs on some pants- definitely not his, since they almost fall of his hips when he gets up. Whatever.

“Breakfast?” Zayn has apparently woken up as well and Niall tried to be quiet, but it’s not his fault that he can’t help but wake them up when they’re sprawled all over him.

“Mmm. Pancakes okay?”

“Yes. Love you.” Harry’s voice is mumbled but Niall heard him clear as day.

“Love ya, too. Now shut up,” Zayn grumbles.

Niall grins in the dark, pressing a kiss to Harry’s forehead before doing the same to Zayn’s cheek. “Love you both. Be right back with food.”

“ ‘nd fruit.” Harry’s on the verge of falling asleep again, stumbling over his words.

“Of course. Go cuddle with Zayn. I’ll bring you brekkie in bed.”

Ten minutes later he’s flipping banana pancakes with his heart still beating loud in his chest. _They love him_. Not that it’s such a surprise -they are soul mates after all so they probably should love each other-, but it’s the first time either one of them has voiced it out loud and it feels good. Brilliant. Amazing.

Even if it’s at four in the morning on the fifteenth day of Ramadan and there isn’t even the possibility of some celebration fooling around. Bummer.

*

Niall starts feeling weird things after that.

For no apparent reason he starts feeling hungry right after he’s eaten and yesterday he felt a rush of something in his stomach when he was cleaning Zayn’s paint brushes.

He tries to remember if he’s eaten anything funny or off, but he comes up with nothing.

*

Niall’s looking forward to the last day of Ramadan.

Mostly because he’s sick and tired of cooking breakfast at arse o’clock in the morning, but also because his cock is feeling neglected.

Maybe also ‘cause Zayn promised to take them home for Eid and Niall can’t wait to try Trish’s famous Biryani. Even if it means that he has to remember a dozen names of family members and other relatives.

He’s about to close his backpack to put it on top of Harry’s (ridiculously heavy) suitcase when he hears a yelp from the bathroom, followed by a crash and a shooting pain in his left arse cheek.

Niall can hear Zayn rushing through the flat and after that it’s muffled voices in the bathroom. Niall just stands dazed in the bedroom, gripping his own behind.

Weird.

*

After visiting Zayn’s family, Niall’s sure that the things he’s feeling aren’t _his_. Which sounds strange, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t making things up. Ninety-seven per cent sure. Surprisingly, the other’s don’t react as weirded out as he’d expected them to.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Zayn exclaims from where’s he’s sitting on the kitchen worktop. “I thought it was just me hallucinating from dehydration or summat.”

“You did drink plenty in the evening, right? I told you, at least two litres or-”

Niall wraps his arms around Harry from where he’s chopping onions and he presses a kiss to his own name in Harry’s neck. “Haz. ‘S not the point.” He turns his eye on Zayn. “Do ya always feel it, or just like, sometimes?”

“Sometimes?” Niall hums in encouragement. “Like when you fell playing with Safaa or when Harry aced his exam...”

“When do you think it started?” Harry asks and he slides a dish into the oven.

“Remember when you told me you loved me? Right after that, I think.”

Zayn nods as well and suddenly Niall comes up with a brilliant idea. He slides a bit closer to Harry, his hands trailing down the other boys chest, and he can hear Harry’s breathing quicken. Niall hovers his hand in front of Harry’s jeans and he moves his mouth a bit closer to the other boy’s ear.

“Let’s see if Zayn can feel this, yeah babe?” Niall whispers and Harry trembles a bit against him.

Niall stares right at Zayn on the worktop before he grabs Harry’s cock through his jeans. Harry moans, his knuckles turning white where he’s gripping too tight and Niall feels it surging through him. He grins at Zayn, moving the hand that isn’t palming Harry to Zayn’s thigh.

“How long have we got?” Zayn asks roughly.

Niall throws a quick look at the oven timer. “Thirty minutes?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.” Harry hasn’t said a thing, but let’s himself be tugged out of Niall’s arms and into Zayn’s without any effort and Niall has to hold back his laughter when he follows them to the bedroom.

“In a hurry, Malik?”

Zayn’s reply is muffled, probably because Harry’s trying to take his shirt off and failing. “Yes. I haven’t gotten off in a month and I need someone to touch my dick. Now.”

Harry’s already on his knees in front of the bed and Niall slides up next to Zayn, his skin burning.

“I think that can be arranged.”

*

July turns into August and August turns into September and before Niall has fully realised it, life is back to normal.

Harry goes back to uni for his last year while Zayn prepares himself for his next big exhibition. Niall has a week where he thinks about going to college as well, but then Zayn sits him down and tells him that no one expects him to, and Niall can feel the boy’s honesty in his own body. Working in a pub probably isn’t that bad as long as he’s happy.

There’s a slight moment of panic when Harry comes home crying because uni has asked him to fill in his emergency form and he’s only allowed to put down one of them as his emergency contact. Niall grabs a pen and writes down Zayn’s number. He’s gonna be useless in an emergency, and they all know it. Crisis averted.

*

The next crisis, however, comes soon after.

The whole flat is dark when he gets home from work two weeks later, but he can still hear voices coming from the bedroom and that’s unusual. Harry’s normally out before eleven since he’s got classes in the morning and sometimes Zayn is still up when he gets home, but he’s usually painting in his room.

He’s had a shit day at the pub -his tips aren’t that much and this one girl kept complaining that he hadn’t mixed her drink properly. An hour ago he’d felt something that felt like a stab to his heart and it wasn’t him. He’s still shit at figuring out whether what he’s feeling is Zayn or Harry, but that’s the burden of having two soulmates, he guesses.

It soon clear when he opens the bedroom door and sees a crying Harry in his boyfriend’s arms.

Niall doesn’t say anything, just drops his stuff on the ground and climbs onto bed, his hand meeting Zayn’s on the other boy’s back. Harry’s breathing is laboured, his eyes red-rimmed and Niall squeezes Zayn’s free hand.

“Did you- did you know that we can’t get married?” Zayn’s whisper wrecks another sob out of Harry and Niall shushes him down.

“We can’t?”

Zayn shakes his head. “Apparently not. H did some research for his paper and they only recognise a marriage between two people.”

Niall lies on his back, tugging Harry along with him and only a few seconds later he can feel Zayn settling on the other side.

They never talked about getting married, the three of them, but Niall can’t remember a time when they were younger when Harry didn’t talk about settling down and tying the knot. Niall never had those expectations himself but he can imagine it must feel like a slap in the face.

“We’ll figure it out, alright?” he mumbles into Harry’s curls, and he can hear Zayn mumble something similar on the other side.

He’ll find a way to give Harry what he wants.

*

Three weeks later, he’s hiding two pair of rings in a old sock. It’s not the right moment yet, but soon.

*

Niall’s lungs are burning inside his chest and his legs feel like they’re about to drop out from under him. His t-shirt smells like beer and chips and there’s a stain on his jeans that he couldn’t get out before his shift ended.

_we’re going inside._

Harry’s text burns on the back of his eyelids.

He’s bloody late.

The woman at the entrance gives him an unimpressed once-over, eyes lingering on his snapback.

“I’m sorry, but doors closed half an hour ago.” She doesn’t sound sorry at all and Niall inwardly groans.

“I’m aware, I’m sorry. Niall Horan, I’m with Mr Malik?”

Her eyes skim over the list, turning a page before going back to the first one.

“I’m sorry, you’re not on the list.”

Dread creeps into his stomach. He cranks his brain trying to remember what Zayn told him this morning. “I’m his plus one?”

“It states that Mr Malik’s plus one is already inside. I’m sorry sir, but I kindly have to ask you to leave.”

There’s a second when he thinks of fighting her, showing her his mark, but then he realises it’s in bloody Urdu and nobody is ever going to believe him based on that. Fuck this. If Zayn could just come out and see him, talk to the woman, there wouldn’t be a problem at all.

“Can’t you just quickly go inside and ask Mr Malik if I’m with him? I promise you he’ll confirm.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Even if you were with Mr Malik, which I highly doubt, there’s a strict dress code and I cannot let you in like this.”

His suit is folded over the sofa in the living room. He promised Zayn that he’d be all dressed up for his big opening and he couldn’t even do that right. Just fucking great.

“’S okay. I understand.” He bloody doesn’t but he isn’t looking for a fight either. “Is it alright if I just wait here then? Or is that against some bloody code as well?”

Niall doesn’t even wait for an answer before he walks down a few steps and sits down on the bottom one. He’s about to text Harry when he notices that his battery has died out.

Absolutely fucking great. Probably the biggest opening of Zayn’s _life_ and here he is, sitting outside, freezing his arse off on a pair of cold stone steps with a dead phone. Zayn would probably kill him for the fact that he’s still wearing his work clothes instead of his fitted suit like Harry is.

Harry.

Niall guesses Harry’s completely in his element, not straying from Zayn’s side one moment and talking art with all the hotshots inside. He’s probably charming everyone within a five metre radius while wearing the proper clothing ,with his tattoos all covered up and a decent tie.

God, what is he even doing here? Zayn and Harry don’t even need him here. It’s not like he’s got anything to add; he knows fuck all about art. Sure, Zayn’s paintings look amazing and he’s so, so proud of Zayn for landing this exhibition but that’s as far as his knowledge goes. It’s Harry who knows everything about painting techniques and famous painters and shit.

Honestly, he should just head home. He isn’t even sure how long an opening lasts, what the fuck is he even doing here?

“Niall?”

Oh. Niall’s head snaps up and when he looks behind him, Harry’s standing at the top of the steps, looking exactly like Niall though he would. Gorgeous with a well-fitted suit and his hair slicked back.

“Hi,” Niall says, his voice betraying him by coming out rough.

“You alright?” Harry walks the few steps down and sits down next to him, apparently not giving a damn about his new suit getting dirty.

“Yeah, ‘m okay.” Liar.

“You do remember that I can sorta feel the things you feel, yeah? And what I’m feeling is that you’re not particularly happy.”

“I’m sorry,” Niall whispers and he lets Harry reposition them so that his head his leaning on the other boy’s shoulder.

“No need to apologise, Nialler. What’s wrong though? I texted you like a dozen times but you didn’t reply...”

Niall holds out his phone for Harry to see. “Battery’s dead.”

Harry hums and Niall moves a bit closer. “I wasn’t- I’m not allowed to go in. I’m not on the list or whatever.” Saying it out loud makes it hurt even worse and he can tell that Harry can feel it as well because the hand around his waist squeezes him tighter.

“Did you tell her you’re his plus one?”

Niall snorts. “Yeah. But it’s ‘plus one’ and not ‘plus two’ and since you were already in there with him...”

“Oh.”

Niall doesn’t know what to say, so he just shrugs. It’s not Harry’s fault. Not really.

“I can get you in,” Harry says resolutely. “Just come with me, yeah? Zee was wondering where you were and I told him I’d get you, so just come with me. You can be my plus one, if you want.”

Of course Niall bloody wants to. But he’s also still in dirty jeans and a t-shirt that smells like he swam in several pints of beer. “I think I’m just gonna head home.”

“What? No, I don’t care-”

“-I do,” Niall interrupts. “I care, and I don’t want to go in there looking and smelling like I’ve come straight out of the pub. Which I did. So, I think I’m just gonna head home, take a nice shower and wait for you two to come home, alright?”

It’s not what he wants, but it’s what he has to do if he doesn’t want to make a complete arse out of Zayn at his own opening.

“I- is it- are you sure? I can come with you. I’m sure Zee won’t mind.” Harry sounds so bloody sincere and Niall wants to take him up on his offer, but that would be incredibly selfish.

“I’m sure. Tell him I’m sorry and that I’m so fucking proud of him, alright?”

Harry looks reluctant when he stands up, but Niall just smiles softly at him.

“’S alright. Go back inside and play the perfect trophy-wife, okay? Or trophy-boyfriend, whatever.”

“I don’t like this,” Harry says stubbornly, his arms crossed against his chest.

“Me neither, but it’s okay, yeah. My own bloody fault anyway. Now, go back inside before somebody else snatches him up, ‘cause he must look bloody gorgeous in a suit.”

“He does.” Harry grins and Niall grins back and it’s okay. “See you later?”

“Definitely. Love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.”

*

The bed dips beside him and Niall stirs awake, his eyes blinking against the sudden intrusion of light.

“’M sorry babe, go back to sleep.”

“No, ‘s okay. I waited for yah.”

Zayn hums in reply and then Harry’s back from the bathroom, sliding in next to him and curling close. They don’t say anything while Zayn gets ready and once the other boy has settled on the other side of Harry, Niall opens his mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers in the dark. “Ben asked me to stay longer and I completely forgot about the suit and then that b- woman wouldn’t let me in and I wasn’t even sure what I was doing there anyway-“

“- it’s alright,” Zayn interrupts, his hand squeezing Niall’s bicep. “It wasn’t that important anyway.”

Harry snorts behind him and Niall agrees. Only Zayn could downplay something like an art opening as ‘not important’, even when there were more than a hundred people in attendance.

“Of course it was bloody important. And I promise I’ll be there next time. Front and centre. Or wherever you want me, really.”

“I think here’s pretty good,” Zayn whispers and he wraps his arms around the other boy, squishing Harry between then.

Niall hums happily. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

Niall knows that he’ll be there at the next opening, and the next, and the next. He’ll be there right next to Zayn and Harry. If he can’t come as a plus one, he’ll just ask Zayn’s agent for an invite and Niall will smile, be proud, and pretend like he knows what everyone is talking about. He’ll make sure that the other boy feel just as loved as he’s feeling at this moment.

*

“This is not a proposal.”

From where Niall’s sitting, it looks quite a lot like a proposal with Zayn down on one knee in front of their sofa, but alright.

“Then what the hell are you doing?” There’s a hopeful gleam in Harry’s eyes and Niall feels hope in his veins that isn’t particularly his. There’s also a tad of nervousness, and Niall loves having soulmates.

“Making a promise.” Harry still squees next to him and Niall shushes him down. He wants to hear this. “I promise that from now on, it’ll be clear as day that I’m your soulmate, and that you are mine. Uhm- it might sound a bit possessive? But what happened last night is never gonna happen again, and I know Harry’s dying to make honest men out of us anyway, so this is the next best thing I could think of.”

Zayn is holding out two identical jewellery boxes and Niall can’t look away. Zayn looks nervous but is still smiling, and the hands holding the boxes are only slightly shaking. Niall’s thoughts flash back to the two rings he’s got hidden. He’s somewhat glad it’s Zayn on one knee now, and not him, because he would have dropped those boxes on the floor already if his shaking hands are anything to go by.

“You need to open them yourselves,” Zayn adds helpfully and oh yeah- it’s not like he’s got a spare third hand.

Niall reaches out, careful not to let his hands tremble too much -this is a big moment, alright-when he opens the little box. Inside is a little note and Niall’s a bit confused. It’s not a ring like he’d expected, but Zayn’s never been one to go with the ordinary.

“Is this...?” Harry breathes out as he stares down as his note.

“A tattoo design for a soulmate ring? Yes.”

Harry squeals and hugs Zayn around the shoulders, his face smudged in the crook of the other boy’s neck. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Zayn’s got his eyes focused on Niall. “C’mon, open it.”

After knowing what was in Harry’s box, Niall’s a little apprehensive to open his. He loves Zayn, but a tattoo? He’s not so sure about that.

“Trust me, Nialler.”

Harry squeezes his hand in reassurance and Niall takes a deep breath before folding the note open.

Inside is a small drawing of a ring, done in black and white and with the initials ZM and HS sketched in the inside.

“It’s an physical ring, before you freak out. I thought me and Harry could both buy you a ring and then melt it together into this one? That way you’ve got us both in one place...”

“It’s gorgeous,” Niall whispers. “When?”

“When what?” Zayn asks and he pulls himself up on the sofa, right in between the two boys.

“When are we getting them, I mean,” Niall adds.

“As soon as possible?”

“Tomorrow,” Harry speaks up. “Let’s get everything done tomorrow.”

It takes a bit of planning; Harry calls the tattoo parlour for an appointment and Zayn immediately starts sketching ideas for his own ring. Harry makes a second call to a jewellery shop to get the two rings merged, and Niall carefully removes his own rings from their hiding spot in the bedroom.

*

Niall thinks he should have thought everything through a bit more.

Now that he’s sitting in Harry’s lap while a needle pierces Zayn’s skin in front of them, he’s regretting everything.

“I can’t believe we didn’t think about this,” Niall winces when the tattoo artists hits a particular sensitive spot on Zayn’s finger. “I can feel it when you burn your fingers, of course I’m gonna fucking feel it when you get inked.”

Harry makes a sympathetic noise from underneath him. “Keep breathing through it, Nialler.”

“Oh, fuck you, Styles. There’s a reason you’re covered in ink and I’m not.”

Niall presses his lips together when the needle rakes over the side of Zayn’s finger. Fucking fuck fuck.

“Be glad it wasn’t like this when Zayn got that tiger tattooed on his leg.”

“Don’t even start,” Niall moans. They really need to have a talk about any future tattoos the other boys are going to get, because he’s not going through this again for a prolonged period of time. The skin on his finger is burning and even though he tried scratching it to relieve some of the pain, it doesn’t help because it’s not _his_ pain. Goddamnit.

Niall leans back into Harry’s chest and immediately moves forward again when he unmistakably feels something pressing against his lower back.

“How is that even possible?!” Niall exclaims, and he feels Harry’s arms wrapping around him as an apology. “Do you not feel those needles piercing his skin or something?”

Zayn grins at him from the chair, pulling a face when the needle pierces his skin again. “I can definitely feel he likes it quite a lot.”

“Yes, well. As you said, there’s a reason I’m covered with ink.”

Niall groans, and leans his head back on Harry’s shoulder. “You’re the absolute worst.”

As it turns out, Harry actually _does_ like it, and the pain that Niall feels once Harry’s in the chair has slightly lessened. There’s still the fact that he can’t even look at the process without getting nauseous, but Zayn keeps rubbing his back the whole time and spikes of Harry’s arousal are coming through as well. Niall isn’t planning on popping a stiffie right in the middle of the shop, so he tries to keep himself distracted by humming along to the music coming from Zayn’s ear buds to drown out the buzzing of the needle.

Ten minutes later, they’re headed out of the shop with aftercare flyers that Niall knows Harry’s going to ignore the second they get home.

“Are we getting the ring next?” Harry asks, and Niall nods.

“Definitely. If you can hold it in your pants for that long?”

“Shut up, Horan.”

*

Niall hands his own rings over the next day. He doesn’t have some big speech prepared and, like he’d expected, his hands are shaking like mad, but Harry stares at him in wonder while Zayn gives him a knowing look.

Instead of making it some big ceremony, Harry simply slips the merged ring on Niall’s finger while Zayn holds his hand steady. In return Niall carefully slips a ring on Zayn’s finger before doing the same to Harry, and Niall feels warmth spreading though his body. The rings can’t go in the same spot as their tattoos yet -because no matter how much Harry doesn’t care for aftercare, Zayn does- but Niall thinks it looks bloody good anyway. 

“So,” Harry speaks up from where he’s lying with his head Zayn’s lap on their bed later that night. Niall’s propped up next to Zayn against the headboard, tracing his finger over Zayn’s ring. “Do I get to call you hubby now?”

“Don’t you dare,” Zayn growls and Niall snickers.

“We’re not properly married, Haz. It doesn’t work like that.”

“I don’t care. I’m not calling you my boyfriends either. ‘S more than that.”

Zayn’s hand comes down to stroke Harry’s hair, occasionally rubbing his thumb over his own name, and Niall gets fixated by the way the curls stretch and bounce back. “I’m fine with husband. ‘S what you feel like anyway.”

Harry blushes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Both of you.”

“Aw, Nialler,” Zayn grins next to him. “Tell us more about your feelings.”

“Don’t tease him,” Harry mumbles tiredly with his nose pressed against Zayn’s stomach. “’S not nice.”

“Yeah,” Niall winks at Zayn. “Don’t tease me, shohar.”

Zayn looks surprised for a moment but then he smiles widely. 

Niall knows there’s a hundred other things he could say in Urdu to make Zayn’s face light up like that, but he’s not making an arse out of himself until he’s sure of his pronunciation. The next time Doniya comes around he’s got a lot more to practice.

They get under the covers soon after that, Harry already asleep with his nose pressed into the pillows. Niall stubbornly lies next to him, leaving Zayn on the outside with his arms reaching around the Irish boy.

Tomorrow, they’ll talk about telling their families and maybe throwing a small party. Harry will throw a fit over not inviting enough people, Zayn will complain about there being too many people already, and Niall will be there to calm the both of them down and find some middle ground.

Because that’s what he loves and does best; taking care his boys.

**Author's Note:**

> if you feel the urge to talk more about zarriall (and be honest, who doesn't?) hit me up on [tumblr!](http://brokenpartsmightfit.tumblr.com)


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